Broken Crown, Dented Scepter
by eldritchabomination
Summary: Based loosely upon the events of Shakespeare's Macbeth. After Macbeth murders Duncan, his first lover, who will be there to pick up the pieces? How will he live with the guilt? Yaoi, by the by .
1. Pleasure to meet you

**A/N: This's my first fic on here. I'm worried. O-o So worried.**

**Anyways. This is a Macbeth fic, primarily contrived due to absolute boredom in English.**

**So, please, R&R.**

**Your comments are greatly appreciated!**

**Oh, and this is just a prologue, so it's supposed to be short.**

_Broken Crown, Dented Scepter_

_**Prologue**_

"Who're you?"

"Thane of Cawdor, Master."

"Why have you been sent here?"

"To look after my lord and master."

"Geez, do they think I need another babysitter?"

"Apparently so, Master."

Duncan sighed, pulling pale fingers through the curled blonde locks upon which his crown was placed. True, he was only seventeen, but he was the goddamn King of Scotland! He didn't need any more bodyguards. Especially this "Cawdor" fellow. Duncan didn't really like the way he looked- all shifty-eyed and whatnot. "So what's your name, worthy thane?"

"Macbeth, Master," the brown-eyed man continued," sent to be your guard after defeating the traitorous past Thane of Cawdor."

"Oh, that was you?" the young royal asked in excitement. "Oh I heard that was an amazing battle. I do admire you so." Mabye this man wasn't so bad. He had helped save Scotland after all.

"Thank you for the compliment, Master." Macbeth tossed his tree-bark hair out of his tanned face. He slowly approached the young king, taking Duncan's pale face into his own dark-skinned hand. "You're rather cute, Master. I think we'll get along quite well." And with that, the older man brought their lips together into a chaste, and brief, kiss, and then left the throne room to explore the rest of his new home.

Duncan could only blush. What kind of man was Macbeth?


	2. Innocence, or lack therof

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update, guys and gals

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update, guys and gals. School ate me, enough said.**

**Anyways, here's the second chapter of Broken Crown Dented Scepter, as promised.**

**WARNING: Lemon in this chapter, 'kay? I've warned you. Oh, and character death too.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters. I guess you could call them copyrighted to Shakespeare? xD**

_**Chapter Two**_

_Innocence, or Lack Thereof_

Wandering.

He hated wandering.

In fact, he didn't even know why he bothered.

Macbeth knew the entire layout of the castle anyways.

But, he had nothing better to do, so he continued to wander about the dank, winding passageways. Just as he was about to cross the courtyard, one of the lesser servants interrupted his musings.

"What is it?"

"Umm… King Duncan… has summoned you to his chambers. Do you… need me to lead you there, Lord Macbeth?" The servant shifted anxiously in his leather boots.

"No, I know where it is." He curtly dismissed the boy, and went on his way. Humph. Always interrupting his plans. Walking down the hallway in the direction of the blonde's room, he traipsed through the open door, dismissing all the servants that cluttered the space. "What do you need… Sire?" Macbeth almost forgot the formal address, however, he noticed immediately that the young king was positioned in a bed. Perfect. Looks like his major plan could be fulfilled right now.

Duncan sighed, massaging his temples. Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, he finally stated: "I want to know about you. I want to know why you're so mysterious, and why you act the way you do. You're an enigma, and I want to know more." A slight blush crossed the king's face as he remembered the kiss.

"Oh, you do now? Are you sure?" Macbeth's voice lowered to a growl in the back of his throat as he moved closer to his unsuspecting prey. "I'm not sure if you'd like to know."

Duncan sat up straighter, feigning defiance. "I'm sure I do."

"If you say so, Sire." The Thane approached the nervous King, and reached his neck out, head positioned as if to tell a secret.

The blonde fell for it. He leaned towards Macbeth, expecting a secret about the mysterious man's past to be revealed.

Macbeth smiled. Oh how naive Duncan was. A tongue extended from the brunette's mouth, licking the inner shell of the king's ear. The shudder and gasp emit by the blonde gave the Thane the perfect opportunity to press their lips together. Beginning the kiss softly, Macbeth slowly began to move his mouth faster and harder, eager tongue tracing Duncan's lower lip, eagerly asking for entrance which was promptly granted.

The blonde felt the slick muscle slide onto his own. He resisted, pushing back against it, trying to be the dominant. Macbeth, however, thwarted his attempts as Duncan's tongue was forced into submission. The brunette continued to trace the inside of the other's mouth, tasting him for all he was worth.

Macbeth finally drew away from the abused mouth and strayed down the royal's neck, nipping and sucking at the pale flesh. As he reached the collar of Duncan's robe, his tanned hands quickly undid it. The crimson velvet fell to the linens, revealing a very naked- and very embarrassed, king. Macbeth raised an eyebrow in question.

"What?" Duncan blushed. "It gets hot…"

The comment earned a small laugh from the elder man; the breath released tickling the king's sensitive skin. Macbeth quickly returned to his biting, straying sometimes to leave a mark. His tongue finally found the royal's erect nipple, tracing circles around the hard flesh, biting occasionally on the tip; earning constant mewls from his subject. A hand came up to the other, teasing and twisting, leaving no flesh untouched. The elder paused long enough to allow Duncan a question.

"What are… what are you doing?" the boy panted out.

"Screwing you. What does it look like?" Macbeth hushed the blonde by letting his hand brush along the other's growing erection, earning yet another gasp. His fingers played with the already wet tip before finally taking the entirety of the hardened shaft in their grasp. Moving his hand progressively faster along the flesh, the brunette busied his mouth by licking and sucking at a particularly sensitive part of Duncan's neck.

The boy moaned every time Macbeth's rough hands pumped along the length of his phallus. He grew louder as the motions grew faster, quickly reaching his peak. "Ah, no… stop!" With a shudder and a groan, he came, spilling his seed into the tanned hand of the older man. Panting, he lowered his blue eyes to stare into the hazel ones of his partner.

"Relax, Sire." Macbeth began to say calmly. "At least you got to experience something sexual before your death." His tone suddenly grew very dire. Wiping the traces of the white liquid from his hands, and reaching under the bed, he slowly pulled out a sword.

"What?" Duncan looked panicked, but was too drained to do anything but lie there. "What… what are you do-"

His frantic question was cut short as the cold steel was slashed through his neck. Just as his eyes began to glaze over, a single tear fell across his cheek, co-mingling with the pooling blood. Whether it was from pain or sadness, even he didn't know. But soon he fell into the coldness of death, the darkness of eternal sleep.

"Someone's murdered the king!"

"His highness?"

"Yes! King Duncan of Scotland has been killed!"

Macbeth ran about the castle, screaming in fake hysteria. "It's true! His highness is murdered! The servants did it!"

However, there was no way to tell if the servants did it, because they had all been killed by Macbeth in his "rage." No witnesses. No living suspects. Macbeth had gotten away with it.

**A/N: Woo. Angsty. I promise there will be more development in the next three chapters. The first two were kind of just a prelude, as those of you who have read the actual **_**Macbeth**_** can attest to. D Chapter three coming soon!**

**Oh, and if you're interested, I've posted a one-shot NaruSasu, if that's your cup of tea. It sure is mine. **

**/shameless self-advertising**


	3. A Plan

A/N: Hello all

**A/N: Hello all! Sorry this is taking so long. Finals are not fun. Here's chapter three of five of **_**Broken Crown, Dented Scepter**_**. This chapter's more explanation-like and detailed. Sorry if it bores you, I just felt like some more character development was needed.**

**What will happen to Macbeth? Will he ever find true love? **

**And why am I asking questions when I really should be getting on to the writing?**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters. Nope. They're Shakespeare's.**

_Broken Crown, Dented Scepter_

_**The Aftermath of Murder**_

"All hail the new king!"

"All hail!"

A chorus of cheers rose from the crowd surrounding the thickly robed and gilded man, all except for a single figure, stoic and silent in presence. He was not happy at all with the new choice of king. How could Macbeth, the one who so obviously murdered Duncan, take the throne? What kind of treasonous, disloyal country was this?

"Macduff! The kingly procession has been over for hours. Where have you been?" A voice called out from behind the man.

The distraught voice belonged to Malcolm, brother **(1)** of the late king. The shock of yellowed curly hair was similar, but the pale skin was dotted with freckles due to hours in the sun battling alongside Macduff.

"I've been right here," the elder man called back behind him. Oh was a mess they were in. Macbeth would most certainly not make a good king, what with his murderous mind and all. Raising his wizened hands to his face, he mused aloud what would become of them. "We'll probably all be killed under _suspicion_ or somesuch nonsense."

"What are you rambling about now? You know this isn't the time to be going senile."

"I'm not," he barked back harshly, mahogany hair flying in his face. "I'm contemplating all the horrid things that are most surely going to become of us once Macbeth realized we knew that he killed Duncan."

Malcolm held back a flinch at his brother's name. "Come, we can't dwell on that now. We've truly got to get out of here to plan his dethroning. Macbeth shant be king for long.

"I won't leave. If I'm gone, there's no telling what the tyrant will do. I must stay." Macduff stood, rooted to the spot, immobile. "You go, make sure he doesn't kill you too. But I'm not moving."

"Suit yourself. I just hope that next time I see you, you're not in a coffin too," Malcolm remarked solemnly to his comrade, gliding down the flights of stone steps and out the door to parts unknown.

"I'll make sure it's not."

/

Macduff sighed, dragging fingers through his mat of brown hair. What a conundrum. A murderous failure for a king. What was Scotland coming to? While he was pondering just how the Scottish downfall would occur, an idea struck him. An idea, which, if executed perfectly, would certainly make sure that Macbeth would never seize the throne again.

The whipping wind was beginning to numb his tanned face; he had been on top of the castle since Macbeth's ceremony- several hours ago. He quickly decided that it would be most wise to take solace inside the castle where it wasn't freezing cold. As he was descending the stone steps, a familiar figure entered his field of vision. It was the king himself, making this the perfect time to begin the first step of his plan.

"Your highness," he addressed the man courteously.

"What do you want?" Macbeth replied snappishly.

"Merely to ask if I might reside in your castle for the next week or so."

"Why?"

"There seems to be a few structural problems at mine, resulting in my constantly feeling close to frozen. I figure it would be best if one of Scotland's best wasn't frozen in a block of ice, don't you?" Macduff stated nonchalantly.

"Alright. But you better stay out of my way."

"Of course, Sire." As he passed by Macbeth, he raised a hand to lightly skim over the side of the royal's face. "I'm looking forward to it."

Step one had begun.

**Okay. It was a boring chapter, I know. Please, please don't kill me? I like my life!**

**Oh, and now that it's summer, I'll be able to update a lot more. Hooray!**

**And the last two chapters will be longer, I promise. I know they've been really short so far.**

**Bye!**

**- Meredith**


	4. Tilted Illusions

**A/N: Sorry about the wait, guys. I've been dealing with some emotional shit lately.**

**Well, here it is, the fourth, or next-to-last, chapter of **_**Broken Crown, Dented Scepter.**_

**Enjoy.**

**WARNING: This chapter contains a heavy lemon. Two, actually. Don't like guy/guy?**

**Push the back button.**

**Now.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, obviously. I think Shakespeare would have discouraged homosexuality.**

_Broken Crown, Dented Scepter_

_**Tilted Illusions**_

"What?" The baritone scream could be heard reverberating all throughout the castle.

"A servant," Macduff replied, wincing from the sharp pain that shot through his ears.

"But why," Macbeth questioned, voice lowering, "would a man of your stature want or need to be enslaved?"

"Personal reasons.

"Oh, someone put a bounty on your head and you need to lay low for a while?"

"Not my head, per se."

"Hm. This could provide me with temporary entertainment. Alright, you are now my personal servant. One would suppose you, being a wealthy lord yourself, know what this position entails?"

"I most certainly do, Macbeth."

"Well if you do," the king growled, "then you know what to call me."

Macduff sighed. This plan would be harder to execute than he previously thought. "I most certainly do, Milord."

"That's much better. Now run along. I suppose you want to become acquainted with all the other riffraff employed around here."

Hopefully, this king would be as easily seduced as the last one.

-A year prior-

"Hn... hnah! J-james!" The young blonde called out the older man's name in ecstasy, shuddering as the warm seed spilled from his body.

"Shh, milord," the rough-voiced reply came, and a tanned and scarred hand was placed over the young mouth to stifle any further cries from the shuddering boy. "So, how did that one feel?" Macduff licked his free hand clean of the boy's semen.

"A... amazing, James." Duncan sighed, tensed muscles loosening. "How do you _do_ that?"

Macduff let out a low chuckle. "Years of practice."

Yes, it was true. A thane was having an affair with a king. A gay affair, at that. Practically unheard of at the present time. But, both men adored each other. It wasn't just an affair to them, it was a marriage.

But then,

Duncan was killed.

This was the true reason for Macduff's bloodlust.

-Back to present-

"Milord, your bath is ready," Macduff said quietly, acting the part of a perfect servant.

"Thank you," Macbeth replied haughtily, falling for the act perfectly. "Care to join me?"

"But sir," the man repressed a blush. Even though he was acting, the thought of what was to come still excited him. Greatly.

"What? You're my slave, I tell you what do do. So, come. Join me." Macbeth ceremoniously dropped his robe to the floor.

Part A of the plan, Complete.

Macduff's jaw dropped incredulously. Macbeth was extremely... well endowed. As the king's body slipped below the scalding water, he looked to Macduff expectantly. "Well? Are you coming in, or am I going to have to make you."

_It's acting time..._ the false servant thought to himself, putting on his best face of embarrassment. "Milord, but, this is so improp..."

"Like it matters, James."

Macduff blushed again, dropping his own robe to the warm wooden floor. Covering himself up out of humility, he began to stutter, "but... but..."

"Just step in. It's really not that hard."

Macduff had to restrain himself from laughing at the obvious innuendo. The king was obviously falling for his act of false innocence. Walking over to the tub of water, he stepped in, letting the heated sensation run up his legs and through the rest of his body. "Milord, why?"

"Because, James. Just because." And with that mysterious statement, Macbeth abruptly closed the space between them, bringing their lips crashing together, moving his mouth hungrily against the Thane's. The king's abruptness had caused Macduff to truthfully take in a gasp of air, giving Macbeth just the opportunity he needed to deftly insert his tongue into his servant's mouth. The velvet muscle moved in and out, lapping the other's lips in time to his own heartbeat. At Macduff's moan, he took it further.

Placing his heated hands around the servant's smooth hips, he brought the rest of their bodies together, skin meeting skin with only a thin layer of hot water now mixed with sweat and precum separating them. His curious hands began to roam, exploring every scar in the Thane's skin, every muscle, every limb. Macduff bent to his touch, arching and moaning in all the appropriate places.

"What are you doing?" Macduff finally managed to pant out.

"What does it look like?" Macbeth moved his lips from the other's mouth to the neck.

"Something very improper, that's what."

"Like it matters." Macbeth smirked into the soft skin of his servant's neck, and removed one of his hands from Macduff's lower back. Wrapping it around the other's throbbing manhood, he purred, "how's this for improper?" His deft fingers began to toy with the tip of the Thane's erection.

"Hn..." Macduff groaned from the personal touch.

The king's hand began to roam up and down the shaft, from the deep russet hair back to the tip, motions becoming harder and faster along with his breath. "Come on... James..." he panted.

Finally, what Macduff was looking for. The king had shown caring. For him.

Part B complete.

But he couldn't concentrate on that for long. Macbeth had hit the exact rythym that Duncan used to use before his untimely death, and the Thane's mind's eye was flooded with memories of pleasure, abruptly sending him into a state of euphoria. The seed expelled mingled with the already dirty water before melting away. "Mi... milord," he still kept his facade.

"I truly love you," came the response from an equally tired king.

Part C,

Complete.


End file.
